Phlegmatic Me
by Corrosive Fate
Summary: [AU] As a girl, all Sora had dreamt were images of him; his looks, his habits, and his voice, but never once did she dream of his name. Now, as a high corporate executive of a blooming fashion and flower industry, she hadn’t had the time to think upon s
1. PROLOGUE: CUE THE NONTYPICAL HEROINE

**Disclaimer:** Deijimon (Digimon) is the sole property of its creator, and of Fox Entertainment, who had licensed it. I do not claim any of its characters, however, I do possess this plotline. Any resemblance to another plot is merely coincidental.

**Author's Note:** Having recently read numerous amounts of Digimon fanfiction, I have been drawn once more to attempt to write/type a fanfic dedicated to Sora Takenouchi as being the protagonist. As always, with every fanfic that I type, it's an alternate universe. With this done, I sincerely hope you enjoy this fanfic. Criticism, as always, is greatly appreciated, but please no meaningless flames with, "OH MY GOD, I'VE SEEN THIS PLOTLINE BEFORE, you hackneyed the plot! REMOVE THIS FANFICTION!", or "THIS SUCKS BALLS."

Thanks,

Von.

**Summary:** AU As a girl, all Sora had dreamt were images of him; his looks, his habits, and his voice, but never once did she dream of his name. Now, as a high corporate executive of a blooming fashion and flower industry, she hadn't had the time to think upon such trivial things, not until he appeared upon her doorstep declaring himself as her fiancé.

**Categories:** Drama, Action/Adventure, Romance, and Humor.

**Phlegmatic Me**

**Prologue:**CUE THE NONTYPICAL HEROINE.

** A**s a kid, when your mother starts talking to you about how boys are vile things, you knew instantly that your mother had gone through some bout with your father, and was simply supplying you with details about how men were a huge mystery, and the keen desire for you to listen to her words, and become a nun. When you're six or seven years old, you would definitely believe that, yet when you hit the teenage years, magnified by puberty and hormones, you can't help but disagree; boys are hot. Heck, most girls agree that they begin looking at boys as possible lovers at an early age, such as nine or ten, but me? Nah. I only dreamt of a certain guy, never **_looked_** at boys.

** T**he dreams started when I was six and a half, when mother finally succeeded in filing the divorce papers that she had always threatened to do when father complained about her job as a hostess. In fact, out of the entire household, Mom made the most money, and financed the family; I never understood why father would do such a thing, heck Mom even made payments to help Father get that Benz that he always desired. But nevertheless, on that faithful day, I was waiting patiently at the office, when I realized that my brand-new electric-blue sneakers had been stained by a Double Mint Wrigley's gum. Boy was I cheesed off by that incident that I immediately threw a tantrum and began trying various ways to remove the gum, all of which nearly caused broken chairs, and ripped magazines. It was not until the receptionist's son, a.k.a Mr. Culprit, confessed that he was the one who accidentally spat the gum on the floor, and didn't bother to clean up the mess. I having successfully vented out my anger, happily accepted his apology, and we sat down to play a productive game of LEGOS ™; I learned that his name was Jyou, and was about a year older than me and attended the same school as me. I was ecstatic, but the play date was ended shortly when Mom came out with a triumphant grin upon her face.

Walking home with Mom while gum was attached to my sneakers was not a pleasant experience; I did not particularly find the fact that that my sneakers stuck to the ground every time I paused, a grand feeling, but a rather irritating feeling due to the fact that I had to literally march home. Mom, of course, was beset by giggles, as she watched my weary attempts, and only once did she halted from our walk and hugged me, whispering soothing words of comfort. I knew then, that it was going to be permanent; the lifestyle that I had once taken for granted, was deteriorating before my very eyes, and soon a new one would begin taking shape. I did not want to ponder and put more thoughts about the subject, and decided to focus all my attention upon my ruined sneakers, for it felt easier for me to be in denial, than it was to accept the situation. So, the fifteen minutes walk was filled with rants and complaints about the gum, and eventually, Mom somewhat annoyed by the excessive whining, agreed to scrape off the gum and spray-paint the bottom of my sneakers with a matching hue.

It was not until we entered into the Odaiba apartment complex, did my face began to pale, as I realized that I would no longer be able to see much of Dad's neon-green ties, Grandmother's secret storage of chocolate-dipped strawberries, or Grandfather's bedtime stories of dragons of yonder, and all that I would be able to see everyday were Mom's stockings, high-heeled shoes, and her cow slippers. It felt empty, as I imagined all Dad's, Grandmother's, and Grandfather's belongings gone. Unknowingly, as I thought of this, we had arrived at our Welcome-Home mat.

Mom grasped my right hand tighter, as she rang the doorbell of our door. Grandmother opened the door, and narrowed her eyes upon us through her thick bifocals. "You didn't get the papers, right?" Her voice trembled, as her spider-webbed veined hand clasped tightly with Mom's right hand. "Tell me, you didn't." Her hazel eyes sought for a reprieve, some sort of truce to declare that the family would continue to live as one, but Mom closed her eyes shut, and murmured a weak apology. Grandmother released her grip, and scurried away to the couch; Grandmother appeared quite devastated. I was quite tempted to run toward Grandmother and screamed out that she wasn't going to leave, but Mom's tight handgrip indicated that her resolve was final and that nothing would stop her; I had to obey. Mom continued her stroll down the hallway, till she reached Dad's door. Finally letting my hand go, Mom inhaled sharply, as her fist gently rapped against the door.

"Come in." Two words. It was just two words that began the shouting, the verbal assault, the agony, the trauma, and the endless amount of shouting.

Mom entered the room, and eyed Dad; his neon-green tie was askew, while errant strands of vibrant, fiery blonde hair escaped from the poorly-tied ponytail. Moms turned towards me, and beckoned me to leave. I nodded weakly, and shut the door quietly, as I headed dejectedly toward my bedroom, adjacent with Dad's room. Taking a hesitant breath, I propped my head against the wall, straining to hear fragments of their conversation.

"You are not taking her." Dad said through even breaths, maintaining his composure.

"I will, whether you like it or not." Mom said in a vitriolic tone and probably donned with her cocky grin.

"Mom and Dad won't like this, you know that."

"I do, but I believe it's a good thing that you and I are splitting up."

"HOW THE HELL IS THAT A GOOD THING?" Dad shouted; his composure, at last, was disintegrating.

"Sora, Mom, and Dad won't need to know what you've done with other women."

"Other women?"

"Your infamous liaisons."

"ARE YOU ACCUSING ME OF CHEATING?"

"YES!"

"WHY WOULD YOU ACCUSE ME OF SUCH THING?"

"OH, I DON'T KNOW, the BAZILLION OF CALLS THAT I'VE RECEIVED CONCERNING THE TIME THAT YOU'LL BE READY TO DO _IT_, ALONG WITH YOUR MOMENTS OF IMPOTENCY. ALSO, THE FACT THAT THE PHONEBILL HAS BEEN RIDICULOUSLY HIGH WITH CALLS TO THE INTERNATIONAL TIME ZONE. DAMNNIT! ALL OUR CLOCKS ARE SET TO THE CORRECT TIME, WHY IS IT NECESSARY TO CALL JUST TO KNOW THE TIME?

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry that you had to find out, but where are Mom, Dad, and I are going to stay?" The subject of adultery immediately dropped with the changing of the subject.

"Where you guys once lived, the shrine."

"The shrine…? But that place hasn't been cleaned up in a while."

"SO? You knew from the beginning that this marriage was doomed to fail. Jesus, what kind of man moves in with his wife? Shouldn't it be vice versa?"

"DAMNNIT. Was it my fault that Dad was indebt? I didn't have enough funds to support us! Believe me, if I had enough money, you would've moved in to a better apartment complex!"

"All you ever do is promise, for god's sake, just for once… grow up, and accept this situation! Just sign these papers, and end this, please. You knew for a long time that you wanted to."

"…Alright. But I still want to see Sora…"

"You can't. It'll violate the agreements. I'm sorry, but you must live without ever seeing Sora."

"But, ARGH. If you want to make her life a living hell, go ahead! See if I care, heck, she isn't even my child!" Dad was furious, as his delicate fingers grasped the pen and signed the papers.

"Thank you," Mom whispered, as she wiped the tears that mysteriously formed. "Goodbye."

I bit my tongue as I heard the conversation; it just didn't make sense. How can Dad not be Dad? It was only later on that I finally understood that my Dad wasn't my biological father, but back then, I was confused, and found myself angry. Why wouldn't Mom allow Dad to see me? All sorts of questions ran through my head, and I couldn't help but fall asleep, after all I was long overdue for my nap. It was then that I dreamt of **_him_**.

The dream led me to a meadow filled with the sweetest-smelling flowers. Bellflowers here and tulips here, an apple tree there, a plot of magnolias, etc. I was engulfed in a land of serenity and solitude. No sign of live was evident, and I found myself oddly in peace. I formed a wreath with daisies and placed it upon my head, and sighed dreamily. I blew away dandelion puffs, and continuously wished that I could stay here forever, but when dark, horrendous clouds began to form, signaling the approach of a rainstorm. I dashed toward the apple tree and hid beneath it, quivering and screaming out for someone to save me. He appeared then, on top of a branch, with a book balanced upon his head.

"Hey, girl. Whatcha doin' here?" The boy said with a whiny-like, apathetic voice.

"I'm scared." I cautiously responded and turned my head towards him. Mom told me to never talk to strangers, especially male strangers, but for an odd reason, he seemed not to be a stranger at all. With curious chocolate-brown eyes, covered with round swimming-like goggles, and a huge russet-tinted puff as hair, he seemed to be anything, but a stranger. His appearance was quite comical, too. Decked in an apparel of too-large trousers, and a shirt that read: scuker is me, along with a comic book that said, "Superhero Dirty McDonald vs. Soapy Suds Bath-Man", I could not help but let out a small giggle.

"Eh? What'ser so' funny?" He said while scrunching up his nose, as a raindrop smacked against his face. "Eew, water!"

"Nothing."

"But anyhow, why are you scared?" As he swung his legs back and forth, as if he was a well-balanced monkey.

"It's raining, and I'm afraid that I'll never see Daddy, Grandma, and Grandpa anymore." I frowned as the truth seemed to dawn upon me.

"Aaw, it's okay, kid'. Heck, as long, as they're alive, you can still see 'em, right?" He smiled as his head tilted and looked down upon me. "Just don't ever tell yer Mom' that you went to see 'em." He nodded his head, as if affirming that his advice was legal and the smartest thing on Earth.

I couldn't help but grin, as the rain clouds slowly started to part away, revealing the bright sunshine. "You're right," off I tottered, as I noted the exit of the dream. "Thanks you!"

He waved bye with a cheesy grin, and tried as he might, he could not get off the tree, and that was all I remembered, as I woke up. I felt better, and did what he told me, whenever I missed Grandma, Grandpa, and Dad a lot. Mom never found out, but I bet that she secretly knew, but wouldn't acknowledge it, after all, she coerced the rules upon me at an early age, and I did obey and execute everything perfectly.

I dreamt of him often, when I had suppressed my anger, sadness, or any emotion. Heck, sometimes, I would think that he was my subconscious, but I didn't wanna think much about it. Even in teenage years, when I mentioned about him to my best friends, Mimi Tachikawa and Jyou (Yes, Mr. Culprit became my teenage best friend), they would think I had some issues with liking guys, or was basically a horny chick. I almost strangled them, but I decided to never mention him again.

As I continued to grow up, I realized that it was improper for me to succumb myself to a variety of emotions and dream about a guy, and so my dreams of him began to fade slowly, and slowly, his voice, his features became a blur. Mom eventually set up a floral shop, and I began taking a part-time job there. I learned everything, even the proper way to hand the flowers to customers, and soon enough I got into the floral and fashion industry with Mimi, during college years.

Now, I, **Sora Takenouchi**, twenty-three years old, single, high-corporate executive of Flower & Fashion Power Inc., can safely say that I live a relatively boring existence.

**End:** I couldn't decide between a Sorato and a Taiora ficcie, but in the end, Taiora won with a coin toss. If you guys would prefer a Sorato romance, I'll set up another story with Yamato being the lead role. Also, I'm sorry if this sounds rushed, and probably it does sound like crap. ; Hehe, revision will occur later on. Chapter one will be written shortly, expect it to be shorter or perhaps a little longer.

**Chapter One:** An inside scoop on Sora Takenouchi's life as an executive, and a mysterious person pops up!


	2. PART I: AGUMON WHAT THE HECK?

**Disclaimer:** No rights of Digimon's characters, whatsoever.

**Author's Note:** Have no worries, this story is purely Taiora. To clarify things, B.R Wells, Jyou **is not** the person that Sora dreamt about, in fact, he was one of her first friends, which will be essential later in the plot. A Jyoumi romance? I have no idea, maybe, perhaps; but do keep in mind, the canon pairing is Taiora.

Hehe, I adored the reviews and appreciated them greatly! Reasonable criticism is adored. Without further ado, Part I. Forgive me, if it's a tidbit boring, or rather quite lame.

Thanks,

Von.

P.S: Sorry for the delays, homework + major projects had kept me away from typing away this work.

**Summary:** AU As a girl, all Sora had dreamt were images of him; his looks, his habits, and his voice, but never once did she dream of his name. Now, as a high corporate executive of a blooming fashion and flower industry, she hadn't had the time to think upon such trivial things, not until he appeared upon her doorstep declaring himself as her fiancé.

**Categories:** Drama, Humor, Romance, and Action/Adventure.

**Phlegmatic Me**

**PART ONE:** AGUMON… WHAT THE HECK?

**H**aving adjourned the dreadful, tedious meeting between my fellow executives and me, I was at last freed to sneak over to my spacious office and serve myself a grandeur feast, worthy of a petite queen. I was practically giddy, as I stepped across the threshold, and neared the entrance of my office, when Mimi, out of nowhere, tackled me against the wall; her eyes fervent with merriness. "Sor," She addressed cautiously, her head turned left to right, as if suspecting some foreigner on overhearing our conversation; poor Mimi and her stupid secret-agents-action-packed-movies. She bobbed her head up and down, once she realized that no one was in hearing distance. "Guess what!" She shrieked, as she spontaneously jumped.

"What?" I answered flatly, my mind being intently focused upon the idea that any delay on my part, would cause my chicken-poached-egg-fried rice adorned with a variety of vegetables, and daikon radish soup to become cold. After all, no one preferred, or liked the idea of eating his or her favorite food cold.

"Jyou did it! He got us those tickets to see the Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man in action, at the concert hall!" Mimi squealed, while pushing me back and forth against the wall, in her anxiety of spilling the beans.

Not fully comprehending what was occurring or what had been said, I lightly nodded, and placed a hand on Mimi's chest to stop the madness. "Okay, now spell it out **_slowly_**." I emphasized, while rolling my eyes upon seeing Mimi pound her chest, in order to calm her flustered self.

"JYOU, **_your best boy-buddy_**, got us the tickets to see Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man!"

HOLY CRAPPERS. Did Mimi just say that Jyou, my nerdy soon-to-become the next Bill Gates, **_got us tickets that were nearly impossible_** to possess? This was incredulous; this had to be the biggest bullcrocky I've ever heard. First off, Jyou had no interest whatsoever in the Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man saga, and heck, he didn't understand the blasted series! Second off, he didn't appeal to anything that was mainstream, but rather streamline or rarely noted. Third, Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man was an ingenious villain that possessed wit and a distinct hatred toward anything that had the words, or were synonymous to, 'dirt'. The fact that Jyou was a mechanic, working daily with a truckload of deep, drenching, and thick oil and grease, seemed to make the chance of him watching a show dedicated to extreme hygiene, least probable.

"I thought Jyou didn't like Evil Soapy Suds Bath-man?"

"He doesn't." quipped Mimi.

"Then…?" I waited for a response, my mouth turning into a frown; knowing that the situation was turning quite suspicious. Were Mimi and Jyou trying to play matchmaker and hook me up with one of their **_never-ending_** relations? I sincerely prayed with all my heart that such a thing was not true.

"… Well you know, Sor, I'ven't been on a date recently, and you know… since tomorrow is somewhat, my half-birthday, I was thinking that maybe we could celebrate this event, together with a few of my guy friends…" Mimi rambled; her eyes were downcast and avoided all eye contact.

"Mimi," I said with a noticeable hint of aggravation, "would you just cut the crap, and **_get on with it_**?"

"Alright, alright, alright! Jyou and I are worried about your social life! Ever since you've been dumped by Izzy, you've been avoiding social events and hangouts."

"Nu-uh! Just recently I went with you guys to the mall to buy a pair of tweeds." I obstinately and pathetically mumbled that lame excuse.

"Oh, Sor, that doesn't count love," Mimi said with a nanny-accent, whilst rolling eyes. She continued her speech, "When was the last time you had an enjoyable night with friends, or had a wonderful date with some sexy guy with an accent? Huh! ANSWER ME! C'mon Sor…" Mimi spoke with such fervor, that I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated and awed at such dedication to my welfare.

"Alright, alright." I conceded, my hands were raised in the air, surrendering. When Mimi madly desired you to perform something, you do it without question or else the consequences were an earful of lecturing or even worst, endless **_nagging_**.

"So, anyhow," She reverted back to her nonchalant mood, "Tonight, Jyou, you, me, and the guys and gals, at concert hall by Northern Plaza, at 8 o'clock, after your shift. Dress in casual wear. See you there, and please don't ditch with that lame excuse, "Oh, but Senor Martinez, required me to type up a new financial set." or "I need to make a fresh chicken stock, 'cuz Mole is thirsty." Make up something witty and impress me, if ya wanna ditch." Mimi smirked, as she took her cue to leave.

"Oy vey," I said aloud, as I tiredly dragged my body and strutted toward my office. Upon entering my office, I quickly latched the door shut, and pressed my body firmly against the door, heaving a moan of agony.

"Am I really over Izzy?" I murmured to myself, as I fell to the ground. This was the third time, I've felt misplaced; I felt as if I were an awkward, floating head guided through some unknown force and pressure, to the unwelcoming/maybe welcoming arms of a stranger. A knock interrupted my lamentation, and brought me forth into the present era, rather displeasingly.

"Sora!" Screamed a treble voice behind said door, in alarm, that I had not responded.

Opening the door, I came face-to-face with Jessica, my appointed secretary, and the cause of almost all of the office's gossip concerning Senor Martinez and myself. "Mm." I said in a muffled tone, after all my mouth was parched, as if the saliva in my mouth had evaporated, leaving nothing but a dry, white-caked tongue.

"Are you okay?" Faux concern was etched in her face. If possible, the concern located within her face was putrid and represented everything that did not revolve or was remotely related to the words, caring, generous, etc. She popped her gum impertinently and impatiently at my face, when I had not answered in her 12-30 second comprehending range.

"Yes, I'm fine. Any reason why you didn't bother to just buzz me on the intercom? stupid bitch." I murmured the latter comment, beneath my breath, as I waited for her intelligent, lamely-put response.

She pretended not to acknowledge my profanity, or simply had not heard, and continued her rambling. She claimed that it was awfully silent and that I had looked miserable when I had returned to my office. Believing that I was about to commit an irreversible task, such as suicide or cutting, she had lunged directly for the door and began pounding extraordinarily at the door, till an answer was voiced. Her dramatic tale was atrociously told, and further more each lie was exaggerated to the extreme that I couldn't help but shake my vapid head in disdain at the fabrication.

"Sora, is something wrong?" She had recognized that shake of disdain, and once more asserting inside her walnut-sized brain that this was a sign and indication for the need of empathy, she had extended her hand and squeezed my shoulder. "There, there… would you like company tonight?"

Bull's-eye! That witch had most likely had overheard my conversation with Mimi concerning the tickets, and now was finding a way to ease into the clique, and garner an invitation for herself. Haha, boy was she a fool to manipulate Sora Takenouchi. "How about tomorrow night, instead of tonight, for I believe Senor Martinez may need you to work overtime." I calmly suggested, while studying her face for a reaction – my face as placid as ever; I knew for a fact that she had always possessed a desire to be promoted. Further propelled with rumors that had sparked concerning the subject of Senor Martinez being a sex fiend, something that was altogether ridiculous, she had been on the lookout ever since.

"Aah, alright." She laden her voice with a hint of phony disappointment and marched away, her shoulders upright, a smirk probably tainting her face; she'd ignore me for the rest of the day, preparing herself for the nonrealistic meeting with Senor Martinez. Could you guess that I was elated as that bit of information processed into my mind? You bet.

Now alone in the confines of my office, I quickly removed my lunch from beneath the desk and unwrapped the delightful parcel. I immersed myself in the gentle wafts of steam that the food emitted, my tongue watering with utmost ecstasy. Supplying endless thanks to whatever deity existed for keeping my food in a solid lukewarm temperature, I burrowed into the rice, savoring each treat with such delight that members who had passed by my office, most likely had cocked their head, curious as to the noises of extreme pleasure. My joy would soon come to a halt with a slip under the door; a sign that a secretary from the ominous office of Senor Martinez had issued a task that needed to be done, or perhaps I had received mail from outside sources. Curious as to whether the task would buy an excuse to ditch Mimi Joe, I picked up the packet. Scrawled on a pink post-it was an utmost illegible sentence; something that Senor Martinez could never have written, for he was a man who prided himself upon his beautiful penmanship. With even greater curiosity gnawing away at my fingertips, I opened the packet and found it to contain a regular eight by eleven sheet of paper with three neatly typed sentences.

**"Please visit this website: http: www. digi7al - revolution . net**

**Username: Ingénue**

**Authorization Code: 021805."**

"Ingénue?" Indignation flooded my cheeks as I dropped the letter hastily onto the ground, and with the heel of my sneaker began crinkling and puncturing the paper as best as I could. How dare the sender address me as an **_ingénue_**? Evidently piqued by the word, my inquisitive nature eventually conquered the irritation, and I picked up the sheet and laboriously transferred the information onto the computer. Immediately, the screen went aflame with leprechaun-ish digital animated creatures flaunting the screen, and then out of nowhere, a title smacked against the screen.

**DIGITAL – REVOLUTION: PROCEED?**

Clicking the affirmative button, I waited patiently as the company computer began processing the influx of data; Senor Martinez ought to be angered when he learned that one of his elevated employees had spent eighteen minutes checking out an animated website. I almost giggled at such a prospect. The data loaded and I entered the provided username and password like the computer directed. All of a sudden, the computer screen had blanked out, as if a virus had corroded the hardware. Alarm infused into my fingers as I hurriedly pressed keys, in hopes of retrieving any fragments of important company documents. However, all of this was made in vain, when the computer screen regained its vibrant pigments of activeness to my relief and suspicion.

The colors adjusted to form two recognizable images and a blurred shadow.

In the foreground, an animated orange-lizard titled Agumon cried to be fed.

In the backdrop, Koushirou Izumi stood in all of his glory with a text-bubble adjacent to his lips, "**Miss me?**"

**_Agumon_**, a stuffed lizard doll, was Izzy's gift to me on our first anniversary.

I. Emptied. My. Stomach. Of. Its. Contents. In. The. Nearby. Trash. Receptacle. Dizziness. Pandemonium ensued. The world turned black.

**End Part I **

**End:** Once more, sorry for the delay. A cookie to anyone as to what sparked the idea of Digital Revolution.

Hope you enjoyed this part. Part II is currently being worked on.

**Chapter Two:** Sora meets the set-up date! Uh-oh, chaos or perhaps familiarity?


End file.
